She Isn't Coming
by mnemosyne of BTnHHeXa
Summary: I can't believe this,' said Hedwig, shaking her head as she stormed in the Baron's study. 'You let Rupert go.' (Rupert-Nastacia)


Disclaimer: Rupert and Nastacia, Hedwig, Jefferson, and the Baron von Trapp don't belong to me. Most of them are or were real _people_, people. 

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She Isn't Coming

mnemosyne of BTnH/HeXa

"I can't believe this," said Hedwig, shaking her head as she stormed in the Baron's study. "You let Rupert go."

Baron von Trapp, whose head was bowed down in reading, momentarily paused to heed his daughter's complaint. "I did."

"Why?" snapped Hedwig, putting her arms akimbo. She stood a few good steps away from her father's mesa. _If father feels a need for a lesson,_ Hedwig was saying at the back of her mind, _he would not be having a hard time throwing things at me, if he decides to do it that way._ But then again, that was not the baron's way. 

"I don't see the need to reason, as Rupert's going seems to be the only reason itself," was the only thing he said, and he did so, without looking at her. 

Sometimes, Hedwig just do not understand him. Everyone in the family, in fact, goes through hard thought in order to get the baron's big picture. 

"Then why didn't you let me go--" 

"We started a conversation on Rupert, and we're going to end it _with_ Rupert. You know the rule." 

"But it's unfair," said Hedwig, the words barely making it out. 

"It is, when you look at it," the baron replied. "So try not to. Good night, dear."

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Rupert checked his watch, not interested in the time but in how long he had been standing against the station wall. His legs were not complaining, so was his patience. It is almost forty-five minutes after four, the one he had been standing for had not shown a single sign of being. Nastacia was never late. She could not be, this time. 

Besides, she planned for this trip. She never liked to travel, but had started to take interest in it upon learning Rupert's likingness in going places. Rupert never told her that he knew the reason why the trip was planned. That would be embarrassing on Nastacia's part. She said she would give traveling a try a second time, Rupert acted as if he believed that, and he did for a while, but where was she now?

Nastacia shipped from Russia, where she was born, raised, and, learned. The reason of her family's migrating to Austria, she said she would tell Rupert in time. Rupert thought it was better left unsaid; likewise, he was not the type who squeezed information out for the life of him. He did know, however, when he should brush aside his trust and start asking.

"Where is she?" and ask he did, with another checking of the watch. 

"She's not coming," came a voice. Whether it came from his head or not, he could not tell.

Rupert looked up, and was not at all surprised of what or who stood in front of him. It was only a white-haired, spectacled lady nearly in rags. Her built was plump, smoke or just plain filth - Rupert could not tell - blushed her sagging cheeks. Her lips formed into a savage smile as she caught Rupert's eyes. She was the last person Rupert had expected to happen.

"Pardon me?" But there was no one else near in at least 3 meters, and Rupert was positive the woman regarded him. He heard her, yet, it would not hurt to ask. 

The woman shook her head. "He never came, too."

"Sorry, I do not think we know each other. I have to leave." 

Rupert paced. _'She's not coming.' Whatever she meant by that. No, she could not have possibly known. It was a lucky guess, nothing more. Of course, a girl would be the first reason that comes up when someone sees a boy in a station. Of course, it could be anyone, or anything, for that matter, but.._ "Alright, you got me there," he said, wheeling around to face the woman again. 

But she was gone.

It took what was left of Rupert's heart to learn that his luggage had disappeared with the stranger.

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Jefferson, the butler, rushed to the door. Without a second thought or a look in the spyhole, he pulled the door open.

"We-welcome back, Rupert." Jefferson took his coat. He made a quick look outside before closing the door, evidently searching for the young man's belongings. "May I ask, sir, where--"

Rupert went up the stairs without a word of thanks or an explanation as to his sudden return. The butler only followed him with concerned eyes, fearing to distract his recollecton. Putting his hands in his robe pockets, sheltering it from coldness, Jefferson walked back to his quarters, but he stopped as his hand reached on something. He took from his right pocket an envelope.

The butler's eyes lit up. "Sir!" he shouted, running back to the lobby. Only when he remembered what time it was that he lowered his voice. "Sir!" 

It was Rupert's turn to look back. 

"I think you might want this," Jefferson said, holding up the envelope. "A courier sent this before sunset, it comes from Miss Anastacia."

Rupert did not speak, he did not move. But Jefferson saw his hands twitch upon hearing the name. He caught him blinking. He heard him pass off a sigh. 

"I want you to keep it," Rupert ordered. If it sounded like anything, it was bitter. "And do not tell them I am home."

"Sir, I personally think you should read--very well." Jefferson stuffed it into his pocket. "But, sir, the baroness will surely see you when she makes her round, that is in no time."

"Let her find out. Good night."

Jefferson did not retire until he heard Rupert's door shut.

TBC(?)

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Nastacia and the train station situation were taken from the von Trapp Family Singers cartoon series they showed here in the Philippines last summer. I personally love that episode. So I made a fic out of it. Jefferson - I don't know where I got him. But if there was a Jefferson in the book, I meant no harm and offense, for it is only a coincidence. 

As of the hour, I don't know where this is leading. I had been craving to write a Rupert fic, and this is where I landed. If something comes up, a plot bunny, for a fine example, I might turn this into a plotted story and get on with the followings chapters. But don't count on it.

You know me, I never finish anything. Imaginarily, yes, I do finish something.


End file.
